


Permanent

by rainbowballz



Category: Maleficent (2014), Sleeping Beauty (1959), Sleeping Beauty (Fairy Tale)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:02:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3247241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowballz/pseuds/rainbowballz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maleficent, a renowned tattoo artist and owner of her shop, The Moors, is surprised when nineteen-year-old Aurora Kingsley makes an appointment with her for her very first tattoo. They soon find out that their paths have been destined to cross since before Aurora was born - back when another Kingsley stole - and broke - Maleficent's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a terribly long time since I wrote anything. Like, it's criminal. Go straight to jail, me. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.
> 
> For my long overdue reentry into writing and the fic world, I give you this tattooshop!AU. Enjoy!

“Mal, we’ve got a girl lookin’ for you.”

Without looking up from her work, Maleficent places her pencil down and leans back in her chair. Her fingers tent under her chin as she studies the lines on the paper in front of her. For several moments it seems she either did not hear Diaval or simply does not care to answer, but just as the man opens his mouth to repeat himself, she finally speaks. “Does she have an appointment?”

“No. She’d like to make one with you.”

Maleficent’s elbows press against the edge of her station and she stares at the design, following the curves and swirls of her current project: a massive back piece for a client of hers that she’s worked on several times in the past. He had requested something medieval and dark, two things Maleficent is quite fond of herself. He has loved everything she has created for him and has never had a critical word for her work, but if Maleficent is not absolutely satisfied with it, if she will not wear it herself, then she will sooner start all over again from scratch before she ever even considers putting it on anyone’s skin.

The palm of her hand slaps in the center of the paper, long fingers crumpling it into her fist. Her other hand joins in the destruction and beats the paper into a tight ball. Tossing it into the half full bin beside her desk, Maleficent finally stands and turns to face Diaval standing in the threshold of her study. He’s smiling at her, most of his upper lip concealed by the massive septum ring hanging from his nose.

“Out.” The woman marches forward and Diaval, smart boy, gets out of her way. Maleficent rounds the corner and walks through the main work room, the buzz of tattoo guns becoming background noise as she approaches the front counter of her shop. She pulls a crimson binder from a side shelf and spreads it open. She does not look at the customer as she flips to the correct date, scanning the squares of the calendar in search of a free space. In her peripherals, she notes a figure in a white dress.

“I’m booked for the next four weeks. I don’t work on Sundays or Mondays. I charge eighty an hour and expect twenty dollars in advance to hold your appointment. Original artwork only or a design I’ve made, nothing you saw online, and I swear to the gods if you ask me to do the ‘feather that turns into birds’, I’ll kick you out myself. Tuesday, June thirteenth is my next open day. Cash or credit?”

“Wow.”

Finally, Maleficent looks up and has to ultimately blink a few times to reassure herself that her eyes have not finally been affected by her golden contacts. Saying she is shocked at what she sees is a strong word, but surprised simply doesn’t cover it; the girl in front of her is just that, for starters - a girl. A waif. A tiny, pale, blonde little thing, like an angel right out of the Bible in her white sundress.

This is certainly not the type of audience places like The Moors and other tattoo shops tend to attract. In fact, these were the kinds of people Maleficent hoped would take one look inside at her shop, see the various hellish decorations Diaval had lovingly picked out, and turn tail. Mostly for the same reason Maleficent’s initial shock at seeing the girl in a place like this is beginning to subside; she is staring. Wide cobalt eyes travel up Maleficent’s face and focus pointedly above her head.

Of course, Maleficent knows what she is staring at. Everyone, even regulars to some degree, stares at her horns. It comes with the territory of having prosthetics screwed into one’s head. Maleficent considers herself adjusted to the inevitable, though that does little to quell her anger at being gawked at like an exhibit in a sideshow. 

“Are you going to keep staring at me or are you going to pay your deposit?”

The girl snaps out of her rude stare with a quick shake of her head. Loose yellow curls come free from behind her ears and her cheeks redden like a pair of ripe apples. “I’m so sorry,” she gushes, one hand flattening over her sternum. “I just - I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in my life.” 

Again, Maleficent is shocked. She blinks slowly and tilts her head, watching the stranger’s eyes follow her horns as she does. That was certainly the first time she had heard that particular adjective used to describe her peculiar body modification. Gross, grotesque, strange and demonic are some she is most accustomed too. And the girl seems to be sincere in her compliment. She is positively glowing, her mouth and eyes open with with admiration.

Maleficent clears her throat. It occurs to her that she should probably thank her but decides to click her teeth shut and look down at her book again. “You have to be eighteen to be tattooed here. No minors.”

This makes the girl laugh. “I’m nineteen. I get that a lot.” Reaching into a small bag dangling from her shoulder, the girl fishes out a gilded wallet and slips out an ID. She holds it out for the older woman to take but when she doesn’t reach for it she sets it down, her smile never fading. Maleficent leans over to stare with scrutiny at the card, eyes narrowed. 

“Lo,” Maleficent says. “Indeed you are.” Her eyes focus on the girl’s name. “Aurora.” Quite an aristocratic name if she’s ever heard one. She casts her eyes on the young woman again and thinks that it’s quite fitting, really. If ever there were such a thing as a fairy princess, this one would certainly be in the running.

“I read all about you online.” Aurora’s smile is so wide it’s a wonder her face doesn’t simply crack in half with the effort. “They say you’re the best in Sun City. In the state. I’ve seen your work and, personally, I think you’re the best in the world.”

“Looks like you’ve got a fan, Mal.” Diaval appears at Maleficent’s side, resting one hand on her shoulder. That lasts for about half a second, because the woman gives it a rough shake and he backs off. “Go on, love. She’ll never admit it, but she secretly loves it when people kiss her ass.”

“Diaval.” The man’s name is spoken through clenched teeth. She turns icy eyes on him. “Make yourself useful and get the paperwork ready.” Maleficent slides the ID over to him with the tip of one long nail pressed against the smiling picture of Aurora.

“Yes, ma’am.” He snatches up the ID and salutes in one motion, winks at Aurora, and disappears into the other room. 

“Have you ever been tattooed before?” Maleficent asks, scribbling the girl’s name into her binder. 

“Nope. I wanted to wait until I was old enough and out of the house to have my first piece done by you.”

Maleficent is used to this kind of flattery, but her blood does not seem to want to acknowledge that this time. She uncharacteristically flushes and coughs into her fist to try and hide it, pretending to write on the paper. Without thinking about it, she begins doodling a flower. 

“You know it hurts.” Maleficent grinds her teeth together. What is she saying? She didn’t usually try to talk anyone out of getting inked - it’s her job to hurt people, and it has never bothered her before. “A lot. There are needles involved.”

Aurora giggles. Straight up giggles. The kind of people Maleficent keeps in her company do not giggle, so it startles her enough to look at the girl again, eyebrows raised.

Aurora’s hand hovers in front of her mouth politely. “Oh, I know. I have done a lot of research. I also know that they last forever, and there’s no going back, and when I’m old and wrinkly, it’ll still be there. That’s why I chose you.” She beams, folding her hands together in front of her. “Because I know it will be perfect.”

Maleficent swallows. “What -” She clears her throat defiantly at the crack in her voice, lifts her head, and tries again. “What are you looking to get?”

Aurora steps toward the counter that separates them, resting on her bent arms. Maleficent slides one foot back in response to the proximity, staring at the bright-eyed pixie in front of her with wariness. 

“A crown.” Aurora reaches behind her neck and pats her back. “Right there. A very pretty crown. I wanted to leave the design up to you. It’s for my mom.”

“Will she be alright with this? You did say you waited until you were out of the house.”

“Oh, she died.”

Maleficent, yet again, turns her eyes up in surprise. This is not a common feeling for her. It is enormously unpleasant. Before she can attempt to apologize, Aurora waves her hand dismissively.

“It happened a very long time ago.” There is a distinct softness in her eyes as she speaks. Maleficent understands without being told that Aurora has had to give this speech many times. “I was little. One of my most vivid memories of her is when we would play dress up. I was the princess, and she was the queen. We would wear crowns made out of construction paper.” She laughs, touching her curls gently. Her eyes shift to her hands and watch a finger wind its way around a spiral of hair. “I’ve always thought of her that way, as a queen. She was so beautiful. I thought this would be a wonderful piece to get in her memory.”

Maleficent can do nothing but nod. She is saved by Diaval’s reappearance, who comes back with a flurry of paperwork. He jumps into his very well rehearsed speech on the technicalities of the procedure and legal nonsense before pulling a pen from behind his ear for Aurora to initial and sign. She pays her deposit with a crisp twenty dollar bill and Maleficent sets her up for noon a month from then. “Come back in two weeks,” Maleficent advises her. “I’ll have a few designs done by then. We can discuss any changes that need attending to at that time.”

“Thank you so, so much, Maleficent,” Aurora gushes as she walks backwards toward the door. For the upteenth time Maleficent looks over at her with perked eyebrows. Aurora was already familiar with her when she came here, but it is the first time she’s heard anyone pronounce her name correctly on the first try. A tight smile collects in the corner of Maleficent’s mouth that she suffocates by biting the inside of her cheek. She watches as Aurora nearly collides with a small group of regulars walking in behind her, appropriately dressed in black and riddled with tattoos. Aurora excuses herself, her grin as strong as ever, and she waves at the two still at the counter as she disappears into the sunlight. Diaval is the only one who waves back.

“Quite a spirit on that on, eh?” Diaval says, shuffling through the papers in his hands. “You don’t usually tattoo virgins.” It is said as a statement, but there is an unspoken question in there, a slight tilt to the end of his words that implies he’s waiting for an explanation. 

Maleficent does not cave. She takes the papers from his hands and looks through them herself, inspecting them closely as Diaval reluctantly turns his attention to the customers. She searches through every initial as if looking for something to point to as an answer for her own strange behavior. There is nothing but the swirly, perfect script of Aurora’s handwriting.

She’s about to file the paperwork away when her eyes catch on the girl’s signature. Maleficent pauses, reads it again, then quickly flips to the copy Diaval had made of her ID. She had not noticed it the first time she had looked, too worried about Aurora lying about her age. 

Aurora Rose Kingsley. Maleficent’s eyes narrow, her fingernail digging a line under the last name. She supposes it’s not all that uncommon of a surname, and with the size of Sun City, there’s bound to be a couple. Maleficent files the paperwork away and goes back to her office, resuming her post and picking up her pencil again, hovering it over a new sheet of paper.

She had known a Kingsley, once upon a time.


	2. Chapter 2

It would be a lie to say that Maleficent did not, to some degree, enjoy being stared at. There is a certain power knowing that someone physically cannot take their eyes off of you, that you are such a stark contrast to everything else around them that they must drink in every ounce of you before you disappear. Maleficent is always aware of the eyes that follow her wherever she goes whether she acknowledges them or not and it gives her a sense of command, like a general in front of her army. 

However, being fearfully admired and being made fun of are two entirely different things.

Of course, Maleficent is not stupid. It is inevitable, the pointing and the giggles that accompany some of the stares she receives. Most people are not like her or Diaval or the customers that frequent The Moors and she is reminded of this every Sunday and Monday when she runs errands, goes to the bank, buys groceries. Some days it simply delights her further, knowing she is capable of producing such a reaction from the ignorant, boring masses that overflow Sun City and the rest of the world. 

Other times, like now, it only serves to fuel an anger inside of her that is just barely contained by the prison of her skeleton. 

Fixing her gaze on a trio of chuckling boys to her right, Maleficent sneers, pulling back blood red lips to bare gleaming teeth at them like a provoked lioness. The high arches of her brows stretch over her forehead, golden eyes become wide, and she watches with suppressed glee as the boys fitfully squirm under the horrific stare until they finally grab their drinks from the table and hustle for the door.

Satisfied, Maleficent’s scowl turns to a grin as she steps forward in line for the Starbucks counter. Many people are interested in body modification, of the strange and unusual, but few have the balls to actually live it, to defend it. 

Adjusting her purse on her shoulder, Maleficent reaches a hand inside and searches for her wallet, careful to angle her head in such a way that her horns do not snag on the woman’s hair in front of her. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’s smacked into something or someone by not being careful enough - 

“That was amazing.”

If the voice hadn’t come from so close to her Maleficent wouldn’t have thought it was directed at her, but the source is just behind her elbow, so she turns. Her mouth drops open at the sight.

“Aurora?”

At the recognition, the young woman brightens, smiling so wide every one of her pearly white teeth becomes visible. “Hey!” Clasping her hands together, Aurora leans forward, voice dipping into a whisper. “I saw what you did to those boys. You literally scared them away without saying a word! It was incredible.”

Maleficent, realizing her mouth is still hanging open, snaps it shut with a click. Seeing Aurora in this environment is much more fitting to her, but it makes Maleficent feel even more out of place than usual. The girl is in another dress, this one as blue as her eyes; standing beside her in dreary black garb is like comparing a thunderstorm to a summer’s day.

“Ah, well,” Maleficent starts, searching for the words on the wall across the room. “Staring I can tolerate, but blatantly laughing at my expense is pushing it.”

“Those boys go to my school. I have mythology with one of them and he’s absolutely rotten. I’m sorry you have to put up with that all the time.” Aurora steps forward as Maleficent does in line. “Hey, if I buy your coffee, would you sit with me for a bit?” She gestures to a small table for two near the front window. Maleficent follows her finger with her eyes, spotting an open laptop with a still steaming drink right beside it. 

“That’s - that’s really not necessary,” Maleficent says, reaching for her wallet. “I can buy it myself.”

“Oh, come on, consider it part of my deposit.” Aurora grins and swings the same purse she had worn when she came to the shop less than a week before, producing the same golden wallet. “Besides, it’s Sunday. It’s your day off. Let me treat you.”

Maleficent has run out of time to argue. The woman in front of her takes her order and ducks out of Maleficent’s way, leaving her to stare openly at the wide-eyed barista. Shifting her gaze between the grinning Aurora and the shocked server, she finally relents, giving her order stiffly while the woman beside her slides her debit card through the reader. 

“Are you always this nice to people you barely know?” The question comes out more accusing than Maleficent intended, although that is her default tone when speaking. Taking her drink from the barista, she follows Aurora’s lead weaving through the tables until they sit across from each other at the one by the window. 

Aurora only smiles. She closes her laptop and holds her drink in both hands. “Not just anyone, no. But for my artist, certainly.”

What on earth is it with blushing around this girl? Maleficent is grateful that heavy foundation and contouring makes it almost impossible for any redness to show through. “I’m not your artist quite yet. You might see the sketches I’ve made and decide I’m not as good as you’ve hyped me up to be.”

“Nonsense.” Aurora laughs, sipping at her drink and crossing her legs. The movement is slight and not purposeful, but with such a small table separating them, Maleficent catches a brush of Aurora’s toes along her shin. “I’m a fan of The Moors’ Facebook page and I’ve seen every piece you’ve put on there.”

“Diaval puts those up, not me.” Maleficent brings her cup to her lips and cautiously tilts it, feeling the heat of the liquid before it hits her tongue. It’s probably still too hot to drink but she doesn’t seem to care. 

“They’re all beautiful.” Aurora rests her chin on an open hand and gazes across the table as if she wants to add something else to that sentence, but decides against it. 

Shifting uncomfortably for reasons very different than Maleficent is used to when it comes to staring, she folds her hands together on the table and clears her throat. “Well, thank you. And thank you for the drink.”

“You’re welcome! I hope I’m not keeping you from anything important. You don’t have to stay, I just - I wanted to talk to you a little more. Get to know you. When I saw you in line, I had to say something.”

“I’m just running errands. That’s all.” Maleficent bites her tongue, suddenly wishing that she did have something important to rush off to, or had lied and said she did, if just so she could slip back into her usual confidence again on her own. There is something about Aurora that puts her on edge, like someone holding a nail to a balloon. She’s waiting for the girl to pop. “What are you going to school for?” She asks, grasping at what little she knows to be small talk. Diaval is much better at it than she is. If he were here, he’d be laughing his ass right off. Maleficent chews the inside of her cheek.

The question makes Aurora blush. Maleficent is surprised to see the girl look so embarrassed. She watches as Aurora runs her finger along the curve of her Macbook. “You’ll think it’s dumb. Everyone thinks it’s dumb. Especially my dad.”

“I doubt that it’s dumb at all.”

The corner of Aurora’s mouth perks again. “Photography. I love it. I don’t care what anyone has to say about it, I am absolutely in love with it.” 

Maleficent believes her. Her bright expression could pale the sun in comparison. 

“I’d really like to travel the world and take pictures for a magazine, like National Geographic or something. Journalism is my minor. My dad thinks it’s a poor career choice, even threatened to not pay my tuition if I didn’t pick something smarter -” Aurora’s hands hook in the air to form quotation marks around the word. “- but I told him that I’m old enough to make my own decisions now, and this is what I want to do.”

Maleficent couldn’t muffle the slight smile that collects at the edge of her mouth if she wanted to. Looking at Aurora’s determined expression, all tight lines and fierce, downward eyebrows reminds Maleficent of herself at that age. She probably would have fought with her father, too, had she a father to fight with.

“You can fail at anything,” Maleficent says. “So you might as well take a chance doing something you’re truly passionate about.”

Aurora grins. “Sounds like a quote I should tattoo on myself.” She giggles and bites her tongue, the pink tip resting between her teeth. Maleficent stares at it.

Why is she staring at it?

“I’ve done enough cheesy quotes to last me a lifetime.” Maleficent drags her eyes away from Aurora’s damned mouth like a civil person and forces her gaze to stay locked on the young woman’s eyes across from her. Thank the gods, Aurora must not notice, because she does not draw any attention to it.

Laughing, Auror leans forward and narrows her eyes, an intensity solidifying those blue pools. Maleficent waits or her to say something, squirming under the stare.

The fact that a small girl of Aurora’s age can do that to her is frustrating in and of itself. Maleficent is not a creature who is easily flustered - she can think of only one other person who had that ability and that was eons ago, before Aurora was even born. She had spent her life since then becoming as close to a human statue as she possibly could, keeping her social circle exclusive and private and refusing to date for the past decade, at least. Life is simpler this way. She has freedom.

Aurora studies her like she is a piece of art - not a statue, more like a painting, searching for meaning where Maleficent knows there is none. 

“Have you ever modeled before?” Aurora finally breaks the silence, her face brightening again with an excited smile.

Maleficent feels fire in her cheeks. “No,” she says, turning her drink between her fingers.

“That is an absolute shame. You’re so -” she motions with one hand toward her, as if that is explanation enough.

Had this been coming out of Diaval’s mouth - or anyone else, for that matter - Maleficent not only would have been convinced that this was blatant ass kissing, but would have, without hesitation, called her out on it. It almost angers her to know that this is truly not the case, that soft spoken little Aurora says nothing but what she believes to be true. 

Maleficent has to believe that no one is wholly good, but Aurora makes that difficult. 

“You certainly know how to make someone speechless,” Maleficent says from around her coffee cup, which hides the ghost of a smile that has taken root on her lips.

Aurora flushes. Unlike Maleficent, every inch of red on her face is too noticeable. “My dad says I’m too much of an open book. That it’s going to be the death of me, one day.”

“Your father sounds like a tight ass.” Maleficent is not troubled to say this - it’s been established that Aurora is not fond of the man. She confirms this by nodding her head, resting her cheek in an open palm.

“He’s a cop. I guess it’s part of being one, or maybe he was always that way. Even before my mom died …”

But Maleficent is no longer listening. Her throat has closed up and a loud ringing sounds in her ears like alarms, blocking out Auror’s voice, the surround chatter of the coffee shop. There is only painful, loud silence. She should have known the instant Aurora stepped foot into The Moors and made Maleficent feel like an embarrassed school girl that this Kingsley was of the same blood as the last one who made her feel that way. 

She does not believe in coincidences. She believes in signs.

“What is your father’s name?” Maleficent knows without looking that she has interrupted the girl mid-sentence, that her eyebrows are raised in confusion at the sudden question. She doesn’t care. She has to hear it, know it for certain. Even now, she’s hoping that she’s wrong, that this city is big enough for more than one Officer Kingsley.

“Stefan. Why?”

Maleficent stands so abruptly the edge of the table smacks against her knees. Grabbing her drink tight enough to risk popping the lid right off, she shoulders her bag and clears her very tight throat. “I’m sorry, Aurora,” she says, one hand flattening over her rolling stomach. “I have to get going. I’m -” Maleficent stalls, searching for an excuse. She’s disgusted with herself; she doesn’t owe this girl an excuse. She doesn’t owe her anything. They are not friends. Aurora is his - they are as good as enemies for the relation alone. 

“Are you alright? You look ill.” Aurora stands and reaches out for the other woman, but Maleficent quickly raises a hand to stop her.

“I’m fine, I just need to start heading home.” She meets Aurora’s eyes. She doesn’t see a trace of him there, but it does little to calm her nerves.

“Oh.” Aurora blinks rapidly. It is the first time Maleficent has seen her at a loss. “Okay, well -” she steps after her as Maleficent makes her way to the door. Maleficent just barely bites back the urge to snap at her. “We’re still on for Tuesday, right? To look at your sketches?” 

She sounds positively heartbroken at Maleficent’s departure, but she refuses to look back and see the evidence of it. A foreign feeling of guilt is already pooling in her gut and it makes her sick. With her hand wrapped firmly around the door handle, Maleficent has half a mind to leave without answering. Perhaps that would offend Aurora so much she would refuse to show up for her appointment and they would never have to see each other again.

One can hope.

Maleficent’s whirlwind of emotions are redirected to a man at her side who is openly gesturing to her and whispering to the woman sitting across from him. She sees Stefan’s disgusted snarl in the man’s mouth and she erupts, turning to face him on the edge of her high heel. Her nostrils flare.

“Do you have something to say to me?” Her words are piercing ice. She watches the man’s expression melt into one of awkward embarrassment. The shop has grown quiet and tense; every pair of eyes are trained on her, waiting for her to put on a show like wrestlers in a match. She imagines Stefan in the stranger’s place and it doesn’t seem like a terrible idea. 

His discomfort is enough to satisfy her, though, for now. She turns to face Aurora and the rest of her sudden fury and disgust is replaced with guilt.

Aurora looks afraid of her. Which bothers Maleficent, and it bothers her that it bothers her, and her head is whirling.

“Yes,” Maleficent says, keeping her tone soft, and she is more relieved than she would like to admit to see some of the fear melt from Aurora’s face. “I will see you Tuesday. Thank you for the drink.” Bowing her head and flashing what she hopes is something akin to a smile, Maleficent ducks out of the shop. Dozens of eyes watch her through the glass as she gets into her car and speeds away.

She swears she could snap the steering wheel with her hands, barely paying attention to the road as she races home. Her thoughts are much too fast for the highway.

Stefan Kingsley.

The name rips down her spine. He married. He had a child.

He had a child like Aurora.

She stares at the drink in her cup holder and feels like she’s been poisoned. When it explodes on the road behind her, she only feels good about it for a minute.


	3. Chapter 3

“She looks nothing like him. I wouldn’t have guessed in a hundred years that she could possibly be the spawn of that creep.”

Maleficent pauses the machine and meets Diaval’s eyes for a moment, chewing the inside of her lip so hard she winces. “I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.”

“Well -” Diaval hisses as the needles start scraping at his skin again, talking through clenched teeth just loud enough to be heard over the buzzing. “It’s not like you ever have to see him. This is just business. Like, if you had pursued your interests in stripping for a living -”

“Diaval.”

“Okay - if you were a mechanic, see, and she brought her car in to be fixed, or you were a hella scary doctor and she needed surgery -”

“I know it’s just business.” Maleficent dips the gun into a cap of ink before bowing over Diaval’s chest again. She decides against telling him about the dream she had the night before because that would definitely imply that it isn’t all business. “Doesn’t make it any less awkward.”

“The great Maleficent, feeling human emotions.”

“Shut up. It’s not too late to ruin this raven. No laughing,” she barks, waiting for the now grinning Diaval to be still again before she continues. 

Diaval is the only other person Maleficent knows who knew Stefan Kingsley when she did nearly twenty years ago.The thought makes her pause briefly, staring down at her almost finished project, four sessions in the making. (For being so heavily modified, Diaval’s pain tolerance is hilariously low). She had never dwelled on the fact that Diaval has been her friend for so long. Her only real friend, anyway. She has acquaintances, employees, but no one she willingly spends free time with other than Diaval. She remembers when they first met, the two of them little more than children, blank canvases and eager artists interning at the same shop. He was insufferable then and even more so now, but he is the only person Maleficent has ever felt even a little bit comfortable with. Diaval is honest to a fault and, more importantly, he is not afraid of her. As much as she enjoys scaring folks, it is refreshing to be in the presence of someone who sees through the horns and the contacts, respects her, and knows when to shut up.

Truly, Maleficent does not ask for much.

She glances at the clock. The Moors doesn’t technically open until noon, but Diaval was itching to finish the chest piece before her big back project came in at one, which would likely steal the day right out from under her. Besides, it gave the empty shop to themselves, where Maleficent doesn’t have to worry about her employees eavesdropping. Generally speaking, she likes the people who work for her - she doesn’t make a habit of hiring dicks - but that does not mean she necessarily trusts them. Not with this.

“Twenty years is a long time, Mal,” Diaval says, trying to find Maleficent’s eyes with his. She avoids them. “But you were with him for a long time. And he did something terrible to you. It’s understandable that it bothers you, that she bothers you.”

Maleficent leans back, wiping gently at Diaval’s skin with a damp paper towel. He’s searching her face, she can practically feel his eyes digging holes into her, but she focuses on the raven she has dutifully inked into his skin. Front facing with its wings spread from shoulder to shoulder and two skulls nestled in the blue-black feathers of each, it’s very Diaval. Maleficent is happy with it, and for a few moments the nagging pain of a past long gone is replaced with pride for her work.

“Is it finished?” Diaval starts to sit up but Maleficent presses him down again with a hand to his shoulder. 

“Let me wipe you off, it’s not going anywhere.”

Diaval is all but vibrating in the chair as Maleficent wipes away the excess ink and carefully smooths him over with aquafore. When she finally motions toward the mirror he springs to his feet, catches the edge of his shoe on the floor, and almost faceplants.

“Jesus Christ, D.”

He doesn’t acknowledge her scolding. In fact, he might as well have not heard her at all. Over his shoulder, Maleficent can see his reflection, expression open with awe. He slowly turns in front of the mirror, then back again, leaning close to inspect every last finishing detail. His fingers trail just around the edges of the piece and Maleficent swears he’s about to start -

“Absolutely no crying in my shop,” Maleficent says sternly, standing and snapping off her gloves.

“Think what you want about Aurora,” Diaval sighs with a finger curled under one eye. “She was right. You’re the best in the world.”

Maleficent snorts and turns her attention to dismantling her station and wrapping up Diaval’s chest with protective wrap. By the time everything is cleaned up, her employees are arriving, whom Diaval pounces on one by one to show off his long awaited Maleficent Original Work. Maleficent smiles only to herself at the praise, but it’s short lived - the clock reads just past noon. Aurora will be there any minute. Maleficent has never been so nervous to show a client sketches in her life. 

After leaving the coffee shop the other day, shaken with the realization of just who Aurora’s father is, Maleficent had gone straight home and paced her living room for a solid half hour, pulling her hair out and talking out loud to the dog. His advice was to go for a walk. That helped, but it seemed her subconscious was not finished thinking about it.

She dreamed of Aurora that night. The finer details had been lost upon waking, but it was certainly about the little waif, lying next to her, staring at her profile as she pointed to the sky. Maleficent wishes she did not believe in the significance of dreams.

As far as she can tell, there is one unmistakable fact that she must confront, something she was distinctly aware of the minute she laid eyes on Aurora.

Maleficent is attracted to her.

Perhaps it is the young woman’s pureness, her sincerity, her gentleness. It would be difficult for even the most cross of people not not be drawn to someone so genuine. Or, maybe, Maleficent simply has a thing for blondes. 

She wishes it were that superficial.

Maleficent has never been physically pulled to someone that much younger than herself. Aurora can’t even drink. She’s in college. A year prior, she had been in high school. And that isn’t even the worst of it - Aurora is the daughter of the most vile man Maleficent had ever known and he happens to be her ex.

There are so many layers of shit it’s a wonder they’re not all starring in some twisted soap.

Maleficent outwardly cringes, looking over her sketches for Aurora’s crown in her office. She doesn’t know what has come over her this past week with this strange girl, but Maleficent is convinced that it is something that will pass, that the dream was only a result of discovering who Aurora’s father was. In all likelihood, maybe she just needs to get laid.

She’s overthinking it, at any rate. Diaval is right. This is just business. She’s providing a service for a customer. Once it’s over, it’s over. Hopefully one tattoo will be enough for the aspiring photographer.

“Did Maleficent do that?”

Drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of her name, Maleficent gathers her sketches and takes a deep breath. She knows whose voice that is by now.

“Incredible, right?” Maleficent doesn’t have to see Diaval to know he’s puffing his chest out like a proud bird.

“It’s beautiful.” The words are spoken on the edge of a soft, dreamy sigh. “She’s amazing.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Maleficent growls to herself under her breath through clenched teeth and urges her heartrate to slow before finally stepping out of her office and rounding the corner to the front desk. She sticks to the back wall behind Diaval and much like the first time they had met, Maleficent does not face Aurora, pretending to look busy with shuffling papers on the far counter.

“You know, Mal isn’t the only one who is great at what she does. I’m the head piercer here. I could add some sick accessories to your face.” 

Maleficent glances sideways and sees Diaval leaning topless across the counter, grinning from ear to ear. Carefully, she flicks her eyes to Aurora only to be met with her big eyes staring back at her. Her yellow hair is pulled on top of her head into a curled bun with loose ringlets spiraling at the sides of her face, and Maleficent is becoming convinced that Aurora’s wardrobe is made entirely of dresses. This one is floral, patterened with red roses. 

Aurora moves her eyes away first. She smiles at Diaval and gives a slight shake of her head. “I can hide my tattoo. It would be much harder to hide my face.”

“Faces aren’t the only things I know how to pierce -”

“Diaval.” 

Although the name is spoken with pure anger, Diaval does not turn to face Maleficent. He winks at Aurora, straightens, and keeps his shit-eating grin to himself as he walks into the adjoining room, leaving the two of them alone. Aurora is about as red as the flowers on her dress.

Maleficent clears her throat and slowly comes up to the counter, clutching the papers in her hands much too tightly. She looks to Aurora but the girl’s eyes are on her feet and she is shifting uncomfortably. “Pay him no mind,” Maleficent says, watching Aurora’s teeth flash into sight as they bite down on her lower lip. “He’s an idiot.”

Giggling nervously, Aurora finally raises her head to meet Maleficent’s eyes with her own. There is something missing from them that is difficult to place.

“Oh, it’s fine. I know he was just teasing.” She looks away again, one hand holding the other at the elbow and pinching the skin there.

Confidence. That’s what the girl is lacking this time. Aurora had been nothing but bubbly their first two meetings, and now she is awkward and distant. And it’s Maleficent’s fault. Her behavior at Starbucks the other day had made the situation even more delicate than it had been to begin with. 

Before she can think to stop herself, Maleficent sets down her sketches and leans her arms on the counter. The movement spurs Aurora to look up again.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted the other day. It was very … rude.” Maleficent frowns. “I … don’t have a great excuse, but I promise it was nothing to do with you.” Which is only kind of a lie.

As if she is hearing the best news of her life, Aurora perks right back up. “That’s okay! I completely understand. I ended up leaving shortly after anyway. But maybe -” Aurora stalls, swallowing, her ever present smile widening. “Maybe we could get coffee together again sometime, except this time not on accident?”

Stunned, Maleficent feels her jaw growing slack and only barely manages to tighten the muscles in her cheeks to keep it from falling open. Aurora is asking her out on a date. A date. There is nothing platonic about it - Aurora is flushed but standing with nerve, her expression hopeful and expectant. Maleficent’s tongue feels like cotton in her mouth. She suddenly wishes she had not sent Diaval away so she wouldn’t be having this conversation, so she wouldn’t be possibly considering saying yes.

Has she lost her damn mind? Maleficent is convinced she has, because when she looks at Aurora, she doesn’t see Stefan’s daughter like she thought she would after their encounter at the coffee shop. She just sees a brave young woman asking her crush out on a date.

“I …” Maleficent straightens, clears her throat again, and idly runs a hand down the middle of her head, between her horns, and down the back of her hair. “I don’t normally mix business with pleasure.”

Oh, gods.

This time, no amount of foundation can hide Maleficent’s furious blush. Thankfully, Aurora is too embarrassed to take notice. 

“So, if I wasn’t a client,” Aurora begins tentatively, peering up at the taller woman through her long, dark eyelashes, “would you have said yes?”

Maleficent has been asked out on many dates by men and women and all kinds of people in between but she’s acting like it’s the very first time all over again. She remembers the first time very clearly, even more so now that she is staring into the face of the man’s offspring.

Her brain is very firmly telling her one thing but everything else is saying another. 

As if by divine intervention, Maleficent is saved from having to answer the question. One of her artists appears, searching through a pile of papers on the front desk to the left of Maleficent, oblivious to the tension in the air and the unanswered question hanging between them. Straightening her back and turning her mind back to business, Maleficent finally takes the sketches in her hands and spreads all four on the counter in front of her side by side, facing Aurora. Aurora only looks disappointed for a moment; as her eyes turn down to the drawings, there is only awe left in her eyes, just like Diaval’s less than an hour before. Aurora’s hands gather at her mouth as she looks at each crown in turn.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, lowering her hands and flattening them against her chest. “They’re beautiful! They’re all so - oh my god, Maleficent, these are incredible!”

Maleficent smiles tightly to herself, watching as Aurora’s fingertips hover over each sketch, never touching, just gliding an inch or so above the paper. Blue eyes trail back and forth and back again, completely struck. “Which do you like best?”

“Oh, I don’t know if I could pick. They’re all wonderful.” Aurora gently presses her fingertip on the edge of each paper, pulling it toward her and back again, and she does this for a long time before finally shifting her hand and tapping it on the last of the four. Coincidentally, it is Maleficent’s favorite. The crown is more angular than the rest with colorful jewels on the silver tiers. “This one, I think. My mother’s eyes were almost this color,” she says, tapping the diamond-shaped cerulean gem at the head of the tallest point. 

Maleficent does not admit that she had chosen that color because it matched Aurora’s eyes.

“Good. This one it is, then.” Maleficent shuffles the papers back together with the one Aurora had chosen on top. “Three more weeks and you’ll have it forever.”

Aurora looks almost overwhelmed with the concept. “I can’t wait. Thank you so much, Maleficent. Truly.”

A smile breaks over her lips before she can help it. Maleficent nods and turns her attention back to the desk, trying to find something to give her an excuse to leave. She needs to clear her head. Maybe if she could get a few weeks of peace and not run into the girl on accident like before, that would give her enough time to put all this nonsense behind her. Just as she’s psyching herself up to tell Aurora she has to get ready for her next appointment, the blonde interrupts her by stealing a pen from across the counter. Maleficent pauses, watching as Aurora fishes a small planner from her purse and whips it open to the back pages, where she quickly rips one out. 

“I almost wish I had picked a different artist,” Aurora says, her voice teasing. She glances up at Maleficent as she scribbles on the paper before turning it over, whatever she had written now face down. “But if you change your mind on your … policies, ring me.” Aurora slides the pen and paper over with a grin far too mischievous for such an innocent face.

She doesn’t have time to reply. The little sprite is gone in a flurry of her floral dress, leaving flowers stained in Maleficent’s eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

Maleficent is not sure why she even has the slip of paper anymore - the sweat from her hands has blurred the blue ink, the creases that she’s folded into it again and again have almost rendered it illegible, and it’s not like she even needs it anymore. She has the damn number memorized.

The week has already wound its way back to a foggy, damp Sunday. leaving Maleficent without the distraction of work. Her sore back and arms are grateful for the relief from the strain of her usual hunched posture, but her mind is now going a mile a minute, and every thought is cycling around this stupid number.

Sighing, Maleficent lets her head fall back against the arm of the couch, her hand stroking the head of her doberman nestled between her legs and draped halfway up her stomach. Balthazar knows little of personal space and doesn’t seem to mind that he is lying right across Maleficent’s legs. She doesn’t care, either. Over the years Maleficent has had a couple of different pets - mostly reptiles, creatures contained in a tank, but she couldn’t stand seeing them imprisoned like that after too long. Besides, nothing beats curling up with a dog. Maleficent is not fond of the pompous attitude of cats.

Her free arm crosses over her eyes. Even a glass of wine had failed to help her, and whatever poorly directed movie she had put on is doing little to capture her attention. Nothing can. it’s been five days since Aurora slid her number across the counter and fled The Moors in a flurry of flowers, leaving Maleficent stunned and staring open-mouthed after her. One tattoo after another kept her occupied and focused, but now there is no machine in her hands, no design to perfect. Foolish doesn’t even begin to cover how she feels. Stupid. Overwhelmed.

Excited.

Maleficent has been courted before. She has played this game many times and has never been so worked up about it. She wonders if she would feel differently if Aurora was just Aurora, just a smitten girl who Maleficent could play with and discard like she had so many times in the past. She has not been interested in anything long term or serious in twenty years, had always preferred the easy, casual flings when the opportunities arose. . Of course, there had been a few who wanted more than that, more of her, but Maleficent never catered to them, never gave them more than the bare minimum. Eventually they would give up and if they didn’t, then Maleficent would not hesitate to draw the line and end it herself. It was never enjoyable cutting off company in the blunt manner she is accustomed to, but she has always known just where her comfort zone ends.

She can’t explain why this is different, how even before she knew whose blood Aurora comes from that it was different. She hasn’t been on a proper date in years, hasn’t wanted to, but now, with Aurora’s number crumpled in her fist, she does. Her mind wanders, picturing Aurora getting ready for a date, all giddy and bright and not at all aware of Maleficent’s turmoil. She wonders if Aurora would be on the phone with a friend, absolutely gushing and delightful and -

Good gods. Maleficent drags her face out from under her arm and looks down at Balthazar, his black eyes staring openly back at her.

“You haven’t a care in the world, do you?” Maleficent runs her thumb across the dog’s smooth brow. His tail thumps against the opposite arm rest in response. “Food and a walk is all you need to be happy.”

His ears prick at the word ‘walk’ but Maleficent shakes her head and he relaxes again, huffing, as if she just did not understand the true woes of a well cared for dog.

Maleficent’s hand unfurls and she stares at the crumpled paper, reading the number for the thousandth time, and she makes a decision.

The decision is this: fuck it.

Before she can lose steam, Maleficent pulls out her phone, swipes to the keypad, and dials the number. She stares directly at Balthazar as it rings once, twice, and her heart is building up so loudly in her ears she can barely hear the ringing anymore and then -

“Hello?”

Maleficent hesitates. Did she misdial? There is no way she misdialed. She could recite the number backwards. But this is certainly not Aurora she’s speaking to, unless Aurora’s voice dropped several octaves in five days.

“Hello?” The boy asks again, dragging out the ‘o’ into a lilt.

“Uh -” Maleficent stares incredulously at her dog. He blinks at her. “Is this - is Aurora there?”

“Oh! Yes, she is, she just stepped out to take out the garbage. She’ll be right back -”

“Forget it,” Maleficent interjects, her face and hands hot. “Nevermind.”

“Hold on, she just walked in -”

Maleficent cuts him off by hanging up, dropping the phone against her stomach. Balthazar laps at her hand, just out of reach, but she pulls it back and covers her face again. 

A boyfriend. The little waif was tricking her and the whole time she had a boyfriend.

For no reason in particular, she laughs. Laughs loud and long, muffling her mouth with one arm, the other gripping the phone tightly. Of course. All this time she had worked herself up for absolutely nothing because Aurora has a boyfriend. It’s almost a relief, knowing all of this has been a farce. It makes every anxious thought illegitimate. She can throw all of this out the window and forget all about it, can let the awkward tension of the situation drive Aurora out of her shop, and she’ll never have to see her again.

Her phone starts ringing. Balthazar lifts his head, tilts it, and stares at Maleficent with raised ears expectantly.

Maleficent ignores both the phone and him. She wrestles herself out from under the dog and stands, the vibrating phone in one hand, the other running through her hair. She feels better already and smirks at the phone screen as it switches the caller to voicemail. Standing in her kitchen she finds herself waiting and staring at her blackened screen only to give her head a sharp shake and head to the fridge for more wine.

It rings again. It seems louder this time, more urgent somehow. She stares at the now very familiar number and sighs. 

Fine. She’ll give her a piece of her mind, then, if she’s asking for it.

Without pausing to say hello, Maleficent puts the phone to her ear and says, “When you were flirting with me at my shop, when were you planning on telling me you had a boyfriend?”

Through the receiver Maleficent can hear a sharp intake of breath. “Oh my god, Maleficent, no, Phillip is not my boyfriend.”

She doesn’t even blink. “Oh?”

“I swear to the high heavens he is not my boyfriend. Phillip is my roommate. He’s my best friend. Here, Phillip, tell her.”

There is a shuffle and then the boy’s voice from before. “I solemnly swear that I am not her boyfriend.”

All of Maleficent’s anxiety comes rushing back to her tenfold, because now it is laced with embarrassment. “Oh.” She bites her lip and leans against the refrigerator, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Well, I feel like an asshole. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Aurora says, half laughing. “I thought Diaval was your boyfriend.”

Maleficent recoils. “Why on earth -”

“I don’t know! Because you two seemed close, I guess. It wasn’t until he started kind of flirting with me on Tuesday that I knew for sure. Anyway, I’m just glad you called. I was beginning to think I had really messed up by giving you my number.”

Maleficent sits heavily in the stool at the island in her kitchen. “I can’t say I wasn’t surprised when you did.”

“Seems like it was a good move though, right?”

She can’t stop the smile pinching the corner of her mouth. With no one to hide it from, she doesn’t try to. “I suppose so.”

Aurora giggles into the phone. “What are you doing, anyway?”

“Watching a terrible movie with my dog.”

“You have a dog! What’s her name?”

“His. Balthazar.”

“That’s wonderful. Oh! I have an idea. Let’s take a walk. You can bring Balthazar, and I can take some pictures of the fog. I need some nature shots for a project. He’d make a great model, I bet.”

“I -” Maleficent tries to come up with a reason to say no. There is none. There is just fuck it. “Sure. Fine. Where do you want to meet?”

“On the corner of 14th and Wallace, do you know where that is?”

Maleficent does. It’s right near the university and not far from her apartment. She wonders how she’s gone her whole life living in Sun City and never seen the girl before a few weeks ago. “I do. I’ll leave now.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon!”

To keep herself from thinking about it too much, Maleficent stands as soon as Aurora hangs up and goes immediately into the bathroom. She runs a brush through her long, dark hair, and selects a pair of horns from her collection displayed on a shelf nailed the wall. She has seven pairs, all custom made specifically for her, each shape and every detail meticulously designed by herself. Her favorite are the large, curled black ones, the pair she normally wears when she’s working, but the ones she chooses today are smaller, about half the length of her hands, and come to a sharp point. They’re bronze in color, with a little hint of gold flecked in. Parting her hair to reveal the screws, she carefully twists each horn in until they are situated properly, then lets her hair fall back to conceal the bases. She places her gold contacts in her eyes with expert efficiency, having done it a thousand times; she blinks a few times and stares at her reflection, setting her mouth in a firm line. She can’t read her own expression. “Fuck it,” she says out loud, clapping for the dog to meet her at the door, and hooking him to his leash.

She sets out like she’s on a mission.

The fog makes it a little more chilly than it usually is this time of year. Maleficent doesn’t mind, one hand stuffed into the pocket of her long black cloak while the other holds fast to Balthazar’s leash. She prefers this weather, anyway, since the citizens of Sun City are babies when the weather is anything less than their expected sunny and hot and shut themselves in. It gives the street to herself and Balthazar until they reach the main road. She cuts through a back alley behind a Chinese restaurant that reeks of piss and rotting food. Maleficent keeps her eyes fixed strictly ahead and doesn’t allow the dog to linger and smell his way around. A sense of urgency is pushing her to walk as quickly as possible and if to spite herself she drags Balthazar to a leisurely stroll.

Suddenly ‘fuck it’ doesn’t seem like such a great plan of action. She shouldn’t be going to see a client like this, least of all the daughter of a man she hates, especially one so young. Nineteen. Gods. 

She wonders if Stefan had ever had such conflicting thoughts about her age back then; they had been friends for many years but it wasn’t until she was sixteen that Stefan had first kissed her. He had been twenty at the time.

At least Aurora is legal. 

She feels like a pinball, continuously bouncing from one feeling to the next. It’s obvious she wants to pursue this, but it’s also proving to be more stressful than Maleficent is sure is worth it. She refuses to think more than a day or two in the future, because one, it’s a foolish thing a younger Maleficent would have done and two, all she sees is flames.

Breaking through the alley, Maleficent clicks her tongue and Balthazar sits beside her, looking up at her expectantly. She switches the leash to the opposite hand and reaches down to stroke his head with her palm. Sweet and oblivious, he is, wagging his tail at the attention. She sighs, staring down the street at the corner where she would meet Aurora. 

Something dark coils at the front of her mind, dancing like a shadow, a devil on her shoulder. What sweet revenge would it be to break the heart of little Aurora, the daughter of the man she loathes? When Aurora came running to her precious father and he discovered just who was responsible for the crime, would it hurt him the same way he had hurt her?

Maleficent’s face clouds over. No. Few people are capable of hurting someone the way Stefan had. That’s why it’s so inconceivable to her that Stefan could produce such a … contrasting offspring.

Maleficent could never touch on the degree of pain Stefan had put her through. And even if she thought she could, she wouldn’t, because Aurora is too pure of a light to try and tarnish.

Shaking her shoulders, as if to physically rid herself of that demon, she sets off down the sidewalk with Balthazar in tow, and she is halfway down the block when she sees two figures emerge from the other side. Even from this distance one is unmistakably Aurora - bright yellow hair comes through despite the fog - but the other is a mystery until Maleficent draws closer. It’s a boy, standing close to Aurora’s side. Phillip, Maleficent deduces, studying him as she approaches. He’s tall and broad with hair the color of wood. He laughs at something Aurora says, his whole face lighting up with the force of his smile.

Maleficent keeps her lips in a stern line as the sounds of her boots clicking against the sidewalk make her presence known. Aurora turns to face her in a whirl of blonde. It’s the first time Maleficent has seen her in jeans. Swinging from her neck is a large camera, half tucked into her partly zipped pink jacket. She looks like she wants to rush Maleficent with a hug and is just barely holding herself back, the smile on her face bright enough to clear the mist. 

Maleficent is smiling back at her, despite herself.

Phillip, however, has become as downcast as the weather, his expression turning to stone as Maleficent finally comes to a stop, Balthazar obediently sitting at her side. She casts Phillip a quick look before turning back to Aurora, who has reached out for her and placed a gentle hand on her forearm. The heat of her skin feels like sunlight.

“Maleficent, this is Phillip. Phillip, Maleficent.” She grins between the two of them as they make eyes at each other and say nothing. “And this must be Balthazar!” The girl bends at the knees to address the dog with petting and coos and he responds in kind, wagging his tail and lapping at Aurora’s hands.

Maleficent flexes her lips at Phillip, who has crossed his arms and is now staring at the sidewalk. She could guess at the reason and probably be right - there is likely more than one. The most important one, however, is almost amusing. In fact, Maleficent finds it hilarious.

Phillip fancies Aurora, and Aurora either has no idea or has decided to ignore it. 

What fun, Maleficent thinks with a grin. Perhaps the devil on her shoulder had not disappeared after all. 

“It was nice of you to walk her down here,” Maleficent says, her grin broadening when Phillip’s narrowed eyes meet her own. “But I think I’ll take her under my wing, now.”

She can almost see the protesting words in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, holds it, then lets it out in a rush, turning his attention back to Aurora as she stands. “Are you -”

“Phillip,” Aurora says, a certain sternness to her tone that Maleficent has not heard before. She has a feeling this is a continuation of an earlier conversation. “I’m fine. I’ll see you in a few hours.” Her eyebrows raise pointedly and don’t lower again until Phillip gives a reluctant nod and turns away. Aurora sighs, her signature smile only out of place for a moment. She looks back to Maleficent, sparklers in her eyes. “He’s really is a great friend, I swear. He is just … protective.”

“Is that all?” Maleficent stares at Phillip’s retreating back. He glances back, then pushes forward.

“Your horns! You have different ones!”

Maleficent does not comment on the sudden change in subject, deciding to address the topic when and if it became appropriate. “I have seven, actually.”

“Wow.” Aurora’s smile pushes the limits of her face. “That’s amazing. I’d love to see them.”

“Someday, perhaps.” She grins. Standing next to Aurora now, just like every other time, makes all of Maleficent’s earlier misgivings seem like ghosts. Distant, unbelievable. They can only haunt her if she lets them. She clings to the confidence that is so characteristic of her. She clings to ‘fuck it’.

Holding her camera in one hand, Aurora gestures down the sidewalk with the other. She’s so eager she’s practically bouncing in place. “Are you ready for our nature walk?”

“If that’s what the kids are calling dates these days.” Maleficent smirks, gliding her nails down the skin of a slender wrist until her fingers hook in the spaces between Aurora’s. She watches with delight as the girl’s face turns up a hundred degrees. 

Maleficent thinks too much, she decides, falling into step beside Aurora, Balthazar following happily along. If ever there was a devil on her shoulder, Aurora would certainly be the angel on the other side.


	5. Chapter 5

Sunlight creeps through the heavy clouds gliding overhead in shafts of warm yellows. The pair walk hand in hand through them, and Maleficent watches as the sparse rays light up Aurora’s hair and darken again as they cross shade. The air smells damp, promising rain; Maleficent enjoys the time just before a storm almost as much as the event itself, but her golden irises are nearly stuck in the corners, watching the young woman beside her.

Maleficent had not spent any time imagining what exactly it would feel like strolling with Aurora and she is having difficulty assessing just that as they keep a leisurely pace down the sidewalk. Aurora said they were heading to a nearby park with trails that wove through the woods right along the shore, where she could get some photos of the fog suspended over the water and hopefully some of Balthazar, if he stood still long enough. Maleficent is tired of analyzing the situation and is doing her best to simply enjoy it, the warmth of Aurora’s hand intertwined with her own, the sound of her voice as she carries on about her nature project. 

When Aurora’s explanation of the project lapses into silence, Maleficent feels a distinct pricking at her neck, a sense of waiting on Aurora’s part - it’s her turn to say something. She searches the sidewalk almost desperately, the hand holding Balthazar’s leash clenching as her palms begin to sweat. It’s still very jarring to her how unhooked she feels from her normal self in Aurora’s presence. It’s very much like walking into a room and forgetting the reason, over and over again.

Maleficent clings to a piece of her self and solidifies it. She is the older of the two, she should certainly be more calm than this. Turning to Aurora, she finally poses a question, having come to the realization that despite having had several conversations with her, she knew very little of her personal life other than who her father was, what she was going to school for, and that her roommate was in love with her. Which is something Aurora might not know herself, but that is a subject for another time.

“How is it that I’ve spent my entire life in Sun City and have only just met you?” Maleficent’s head tilts. “This city is large, yes, but I think I would have noticed you before.”

Aurora’s cheeks seem to be in a perpetual state of various stages of blushing. She looks at their clasped hands and then to Maleficent’s eyes as she speaks. “I was born here, but I didn’t grow up here. After my mom died, I moved in with my aunts a few hours away.” Blue eyes flick off to the distance, as if she could spot her house from where they walk. “I didn’t visit my dad much except in the summer, but he almost never let me go out. I always loved it here, though. It’s such a colorful place.” She turns her eyes to the buildings as they pass them, small business and restaurants, most of them closed this late on a Sunday. It is very different from Sun City’s usual state, the loud, vibrant, busy epicenter that it usually is. Maleficent feels like she is behind the scenes of an elaborate movie. “I grew up in a very small house,” Aurora continues, “literally in the middle of the woods. No joke. I had to ride the bus for an hour to get to school. And my aunts were always very protective of me, too. Still are. They really didn’t want me to move here. The only thing that convinced all three of them that I would be safe was Phillip coming with me.”

“You and him have been friends for a long time, I imagine?”

“Since grade school. I still remember the first day I met him. First grade, first day. I was going to the bathroom and I found him wandering the halls almost crying because he was lost.” She laughs, squeezing Maleficent’s hand with her own. “We’ve been practically inseparable since. What about you and Diaval? How long have you known him?”

“Twenty years or so. We were interning at the same parlor. I was only sixteen then, which is not old enough to be working in a shop, and Diaval was the only one who knew I was lying about my age. I told him I would let him live if he kept it a secret.” Maleficent grins tightly at Aurora’s responding laugh. It becomes increasingly easier to talk as they continue down the sidewalk. Aurora is loaded with all sorts of questions - why did you want to be a tattoo artist? Do you remember the first tattoo you ever did? What’s the hardest tattoo you ever had to do? - and Maleficent answers them just as she would if it were Diaval in Aurora’s place. The growing comfort melts the tension that had been growing in Maleficent’s shoulders, and soon she is smiling openly, even offering a few laughs to Aurora’s great pleasure. Even when they fall into silence again, it is not uncomfortable.

The park comes into view at the very edges of the city, a desolate, unkempt place that had probably not seen a child in the better part of five or ten years, let alone any lawn care. Weeds and tall grass have wound their way around what remains of the decaying equipment, as if it were trying to pull it beneath the earth. Maleficent’s eyebrows rise - this is certainly now the flowery garden park she had been expecting.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Aurora bounces on her heels, gesturing with a wide arc of her arm. “I took some pictures here for my last project. I just love how mysterious and lonely it is here.”

“Seems a bit gloomy for someone like you,” Maleficent remarks cooly.

Aurora makes a face at her, which is far too adorable for her own good, honestly. “I’m not all sunshine and rainbows, you know.”

“You could have fooled me.”

Laughing, Aurora gives the hand she still holds within her own a slight tug, and she leads Maleficent across the abandoned, sad little park. She studies a swingset with no swings, a slide tilting dangerously on its side, and a seesaw that has snapped in half at the middle. Curving around the back of the park are the trails Aurora had mentioned, disappearing into the thicket of the woods. 

Aurora insists on taking a photograph of Balthazar at the mouth of the farthest trail and with some hesitance, slowly unhooks her hand from Maleficent’s. Maleficent releases Balthazar from his leash and he obediently waits to be directed, trotting over to the trail and sitting just where his owner instructs him to. She beams under the praise of having such a well behaved dog, and watches with a smile on her face as Aurora snaps a few pictures from the camera hanging at her neck. Aurora becomes fully immersed in the task, her face a slate of calmness that Maleficent had rarely, if ever, seen on her, and watches, fascinated, as she kneels in the dirt and darts around, this way and that, cooing to Balthazar as if he understood a word of it. When she seems satisfied with her shots she stands, grinning over at Maleficent. The two meet eyes and there is a moment where Maleficent thinks Aurora has come over some sort of spell, the way her blue eyes deepen and damn near start sparkling in the waning late afternoon sun.

Maleficent could get used to this kind of staring.

“Maleficent?” Aurora says, cradling the camera fondly in her hands. “Could I …?” She holds it up, a hopeful smile on her face, a finger hovering over the button.

Maleficent’s initial response is to say no, to dismiss the idea so strongly that it would never be brought again. She can’t remember the last time she allowed anyone to take her picture. Her appearance is solely for her own enjoyment, and she didn’t trust the type of social technology that could put her privacy at risk. But looking at the girl, so expectant and pure, she can’t get the word ‘no’ to form in her mouth.

“Just one,” Maleficent relents, and Aurora looks about ready to explode.

“Thank you! Could you stand next to Balthazar and, I don’t know, look … like you usually do? You know,” she grins, “all … otherworldly.” 

Chuckling, Maleficent moves to stand beside her pet, one hand smoothing over the slope of his nose. “Is that how you think of me?”

“Is that not how everyone thinks of you?” The blonde winks. She raises the camera and stares through the lens for a few moments. Maleficent straightens her back, her fingertips still balanced on the top of Balthazar’s head. In her black cloak and horns, she’s sure she looks like she just walked right out hell.

That’s how she likes it, anyway.

Aurora squirms in what Maleficent can only assume is delight when she finally takes the picture. “Thank you! I know you’re a very private person - I promise this won’t end up on Facebook.”

Maleficent tries not to look as relieved as she feels. She simply nods, then turns toward the trail. “Shall we?” With a grin, Maleficent offers her elbow, and watches a shade of pink that would put the freshest of tulips to shame collect in Aurora’s cheeks. Maleficent finally feels like herself again; powerful, a force to be reckoned with. 

Biting her lip and apparently unable to actually speak the words, Aurora nods and slips her arm through Maleficent’s. She presses probably a bit closer than necessary, but Maleficent finds she doesn’t mind.

Balthazar moves ahead of them but never at a worrisome distance - Maleficent tells Aurora how difficult it had been to train him as a puppy, but now she would trust him with her life if it came down to it. Aurora takes a few more pictures of him as he examines the ferns framing the winding trail on either side. 

The ocean is heard long before it is seen, and the crisp, sharp smell of saltwater causes Maleficent to inhale deeply almost subconsciously. She does not frequent the beach often (as if her ghostly complexion didn’t already make that blatantly obvious) and upon seeing it she has to pause to take it all in, as it had probably been years since she had so much as driven by. This secret spot that Aurora had managed to find is more rocks than it is sand, but the water laps at the edges as clear as glass. There isn’t a soul in either direction, and the way the shore curves around on either side of them leaves the area almost completely cut off, a reverse island. A thick, persistent white mist hovers over the edges of the water, moving toward them like a haunting. Maleficent can’t see more than maybe a few hundred feet across the ocean’s surface.   
It is very private. Very special as well apparently, Maleficent notes, as she looks toward Aurora again, who has stepped away from her and is staring out across the building waves with such awe and wonder, Maleficent would have believed her had she said it was the first time she had ever been here.   
“I don’t know for sure,” the girl starts, her arms crossing over her chest. “I mean, I don’t have any pictures as proof, but I think my mom might have brought me here when I was young. There’s just something very … familiar about this place.”

Maleficent shifts with discomfort. She heard a lot of sob stories in her line of work - nearly everyone these days had to have some sort of huge, life-changing reason to get a tattoo. She wishes she could rewind a dozen years or so, when people were more impulsive, when the majority of her clients were fresh adults looking to piss off their parents. Maleficent doesn’t usually care the reason, doesn’t care for backstories, but she stares at Aurora and suddenly she does.

“Can I ask - it is none of my business, feel free to ignore this question -”

“How did she die?” Aurora moves to sit on an old piece of driftwood. She touches the space beside her pointedly and Maleficent sweeps her cloaks over the rocks and sits. Aurora, her expression distant, takes a deep breath and looks out over the water again. Her delicate fingers absently trace the edges of her camera. “Cancer. It hit her hard and fast. I was so young, I didn’t really understand it … one minute she was alive and bubbly and beautiful, and the next she was gone.” Sadness dips the corners of her mouth. It is gone before Maleficent can even comment, giving her head a slight shake as she brings the camera to her eye. Aurora smiles at the image through the lens and snaps a picture.

Maleficent places a hand on Aurora’s knee. “I am truly sorry. I hope that the crown I made for you does her justice.”

When Aurora turns to look at the woman beside her, the smile blooms. The sadness that had threatened to take root there pulls back its awful tendrils and there is only the kind, sweet Aurora that Maleficent had come to know. “Thank you. I’m positive it will.”   
Aurora is staring at Maleficent’s mouth. Maleficent is staring at Aurora’s mouth.

In the span of one blink, an old memory that she thought she had buried long ago breaks through the warped mist of time like a ship in the fog. It is of Stefan, smiling crookedly, young and handsome and leaning against the gnarled trunk of a dead willow tree, coaxing Maleficent over with one hooked finger. She thought she was going to sail straight into the sky when he kissed her. 

Her eyes open again. It is not Stefan, it is his daughter, and Maleficent feels like flying again because she wants to kiss her.

Leaning away, Maleficent releases a breath she did not know she had been holding. Aurora hesitates in her peripherals and fidgets with the camera. Neither comment on the moment that slipped between their fingers like sand, and Aurora is quick to fill the silence by talking about the project again. She takes a few more pictures of the rocks and the fog, a few of Balthazar jumping playfully in the water. She is laughing and warm and sweet again.

Maleficent cannot shake the mounting sense of dread on her shoulders, cannot help but feel she is doing something terribly wrong. She never thought that Stefan could have ruined something inside of her so beyond repair that it still affected her now; she watches Aurora tip-toe across the rocks and feels like a weed in a garden, a poison that would only make Aurora wilt.

Maleficent stands abruptly. She approaches Aurora from behind, can smell something like vanilla when the wind moves through her hair. The girl is calm when she looks over her shoulder, not scared or nervous at all, and she stares up at Maleficent like she can’t really believe she’s standing right behind her.

There really is no use in denying it, Maleficent thinks, gesturing toward the camera with her hand. “May I?”

Aurora tries to bite her grin away, but it is too strong of a force. Pearls of teeth split her lips apart. “Really?”

“It’s only fair.”

Giggling, Aurora pulls the camera over her head and places it carefully, but with trust, in Maleficent’s hands. “I suppose you’re right.”

Maleficent holds the camera to her eye and peers at the miniature blonde through the lens. “Come on,” Maleficent teases. “Don’t be so stiff.”

“That’s rich, coming from you!” Aurora throws her head back and laughs. Maleficent snaps the picture with a click.

Liking her is too easy and comes too naturally to be a dark thing. 

Rain chases them through the woods. Balthazar bites at the air and pulls on his leash, urging the two women to go faster. Maleficent’s cloak gets snagged on the thorn of a tree and Aurora laughs so hard she looks ready to collapse. “You look so cute when you’re stuck,” she says, too purposefully for it to be casual as she pulls Maleficent free.

Grinning despite herself, Maleficent snakes her hand around Aurora’s and towers over her. “You’re a little beast.”

“I did tell you I wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, right?”

Thunder growls across the sky as they cross the park, back onto the sidewalk, toward the corner where they had met. The rain is light, darkening the shoulders of Aurora’s pink jacket until they’re peppered red. She talks of her and Phillip’s apartment that they’re subleasing for the summer, how it’s small but cozy and how happy she was to be out of the dorms, and Maleficent listens with a smile, relieved suddenly to know that Aurora isn’t leaving for the break. She ignores the nervous twisting in her gut at the promise of seeing more and more of Aurora over the next three months and focuses on only the electric excitement in her veins.

For the first time since she was sixteen, she is looking forward to the next time.

Maleficent is even almost sad, if that is the correct word, when they approach a small duplex that Aurora points to with a wide smile. The squat brown building leaves much to be desired, but there are flowers in the windows on one side. Without having to ask, she knows that it is the side she shares with Phillip.

“Stay,” Maleficent says to Balthazar, who promptly sits on the sidewalk leading up to the duplex. He watches the pair with curious eyes as they step onto the porch

Shielded from the rain by the awning above the door, Aurora turns to face Maleficent, resting her back against the screen. “Come in,” she says. “We have more than enough room for both of you.” The words are not quite a demand but not necessarily a question, either.

The word ‘yes’ burns on Maleficent’s tongue, but she does not speak it. Peeking through the diamond shaped windows in the door, the woman shakes her head. “I do not think your roommate would like that very much.”

Aurora gives the hand she still holds in her own a slight tug. Maleficent tilts forward. “He’s just … protective. He knows how much I like you, and he wouldn’t do anything to mess that up.”

Maleficent’s red lips curl into a broad grin. Hearing the words out loud is a rush she had not been expecting. “You fancy me, then?” She raises one hand, watching Aurora’s eyelashes flutter as Maleficent’s fingernails trail over the very edges of her yellow hair. Her hand shifts to flatten against the door, half pinning her there.

“As if -” Aurora’s breath catches in her chest. She tries again. “As if it wasn’t obvious.”

“You can be a bit transparent at times.” Maleficent is close enough now to feel the uneven, warm breaths that Aurora is releasing at a choppy pace. She watches Aurora’s tongue slide across her lower lip, and that is about all she can handle. 

Maleficent leans forward, almost catches the gasp the rattles out of Aurora’s mouth when their lips nearly meet. 

And then she pauses. Does not pull back, does not step away, just stops, golden eyes meeting Aurora’s blue.

“I’m your father’s age,” she says. 

“Then why are you here, Maleficent?” Despite her worrisome breathing and the flush in her cheeks, Aurora sounds sensible. Her eyes are bright.

Maleficent cannot answer that question, so she doesn’t try.

To the sound of monstrous, thundering footsteps in the sky, Maleficent kisses Aurora with her eyes closed, and does not think about anything else for a few precious moments - or perhaps it’s minutes, with the dagger-like ends of her fingernails curling against the door, her other hand winding around Aurora’s waist and pulling her as close as their bodies allow. Time escapes her when Aurora’s lips part with a sound that goes straight down Maleficent’s spine and her tongue quickly fills the space. She tastes hot and wet and like surrender; Maleficent can feel the girl’s knees trembling against her own. 

Maleficent pulls back slightly, to catch her breath, to chuckle gently against Aurora’s panting mouth. The girl’s hands, at some point, had found fistfuls of Maleficent’s cloak, and at the spreading distance her grip tightens, tries to pulls the woman forward again.

“Beastie,” Maleficent says fondly, the hand at Aurora’s waist seeking skin between the hem of her jacket and the top of her jeans. When she finds it, the warm flesh riddles with goosebumps at the slightest touch of her fingers. Aurora trembles like a leaf, and Maleficent’s pretty convinced she would simply blow away in the storm if she wasn’t in the way. 

Maleficent is confident, strong. There are no nerves, no disgust, no Stefan. She captures Aurora’s mouth again, feels a smile on the other woman’s mouth, and chuckles deep in her throat. The next time she pulls away it’s with the intent to explore the pale plane of Aurora’s neck, to nip at her jugular and bring out more delicious sounds, but a flash of movement in the window behind Aurora’s head drags Maleficent’s lips to a halt on the girl’s jawline. It is there and gone in half a second, but it is unmistakably the probing, jealous eye of Phillip.

To her dismay, Maleficent pulls back. She feels Aurora tighten her grip again, a protest on her lips, but she moves her hand from the door and places the tip of a single digit to the girl’s open lips. “My apologies, but I should go. Poor Balthazar will never forgive me for leaving him in the rain like this.”

It takes her a few moments, but Aurora eventually comes to her senses, blinking away the blur that had eclipsed her eyes. She looks disappointed, her fingers trailing down the edge of Maleficent’s cloak. “Okay,” she says, reluctantly, then taps a finger against Maleficent’s sternum. “Wait one second, though, please?”

With a confirming glance to the window that it is empty, Maleficent nods. She is still dizzy from the kissing, a distinct burning gathering in the pit of her stomach that ebbs away as the rain begins to pelt harder into the ground. 

Aurora all but trips into the house. Maleficent laughs to herself, patting her thigh to invite Balthazar onto the porch with her. Mistaking the offer as going inside, the dog nearly leaps right past her, and it is only with great skill that Maleficent manages to hook her fingers around his collar before he can speed his way into the house. She holds him tightly by the leash as he shakes off the rain. Her scolding is interrupted by a figure filling the doorway and she raises her head to tell Aurora goodbye, but it is Phillip’s sour face that greets her. Even Balthazar seems to freeze in place. Phillip’s expression is not a friendly one. 

Straightening, Maleficent slips easily into her usual icy persona. It is much easier to do when Aurora isn’t around, she notices. 

“Do you always spy on her, or is it just me you do not trust?” Maleficent’s sharp brow arches over her forehead, her eyes challenging. 

Phillip, to his credit, is not as frightened as she wishes he would be. His arms lock across his chest. “Just you,” he says stiffly.

Amused, Maleficent tilts her head. She watches Phillip’s eyes jump to her horns and back again. “Is it because I might be a bad influence on her, or something else?” She looks Phillip up and down pointedly. He squirms under the stare, and Maleficent realizes she shouldn’t find that as funny as she does. “Regardless,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s not like it matters. You’re not her father.”

The boy’s eyebrows dig into an unfriendly arrow over his nose. “He’d probably have a stroke if he saw you.”

Maleficent’s smirk is tight. “Oh, you have no idea.”

Phillip glances sidelong and must spot Aurora approaching, because his expression melts in an instant. As she emerges, her eyes fix solidly on him until he steps away. She moves out under the awning again, a massive purple umbrella in her hands. 

“I’m sorry he’s being weird,” she hushes under her breath, holding out the umbrella. “And I’m sorry this is so … purple.”

“Nonsense.” Maleficent turns and pops the umbrella open, holding it at her shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for modeling, and thank you too, Balthazar.” She scratches at the dog’s ear. His tail thumps on the stair of the porch. “And, thank you for the date, even though it rained, and thank you for, uhm, that kissing bit -”

“I enjoyed the kissing bit.” Maleficent grins at the flood of color to Aurora’s cheek. “As well as the rest of it, of course.”

“So … again? Maybe? Soon?”

“Hm.” Maleficent spins the umbrella in her fingertips. Her free hand balances below Aurora’s chin. Her thumb smooths over it. “I would like that.”

“Me too,” Aurora gushes. Maleficent watches her throat bob as she struggles to swallow. “Me too.”

Chuckling, Maleficent leans forward, relishes in the way the girl reacts at the proximity. Her lips ghost over Aurora’s, a whisper of a kiss, and then she turns, leaving as breathless as the girl who stays behind.

By the time Maleficent arrives at her apartment, the sky is full of lightning, and her blackened heart is alive with it.


	6. Chapter 6

Maleficent prides herself on her self control as much as her impeccable nails (each one dutifully filed to a dagger-like point, maintained on a bi-weekly basis by a friend of hers at a salon just down the street from The Moors) which is the only reason she has not started gnawing at them, though her nerves have certainly pushed her to that point. More than once she has to tear her hand away from her face and flatten it on the desk or wrap it tightly around a pencil just to stare blankly at the paper with her bottom lip wedged between unforgiving clamps of teeth. Even with the radio on and the familiar buzz of tattoo machines and conversation in the next room, Maleficent's mind is in an entirely different place; a rainy porch, with a storm above her head and a quivering blonde in her arms.

The scene projects itself on her eyelids every time she blinks like a film that has been overexposed. The sunlight of Aurora's hair and the ponds trapped in her eyes are brightly charged against the washed out sky, a painting in color in a world of black and white. Long after the storm had passed Maleficent could feel currents of electricity follow the length of her veins. Gods, even the taste of her haunts Maleficent whether she's awake or asleep.

Aurora's persistence, too, was something to be admired. The day after their walk - date - the texting began, and when Maleficent's inner turmoil could not bring herself to reply, it was followed a few hours later by a phone call. Normally this would drive Maleficent right up the wall; if she wanted to converse, she would initiate it herself. Diaval and her employees and the few select friends she has understand this. They had learned early on that she did not tolerate being pestered. With Aurora, however (like most things, Maleficent is discovering, when it comes to her), it is different, which is new and terribly frustrating.

As soon as Aurora is out of sight, Maleficent loses her nonchalance, fuck-it attitude. It's like Aurora casts a spell on her every time she shows up - or Aurora

the spell. When she's there, it is easy to like her, to touch her and look at her and kiss her. It is very, very easy to kiss her. But the minute Maleficent is alone again it's like being blinded after staring at the sun for too long; it is black once more, and everything looks so much worse in the dark.

She has not answered any of Aurora's attempts to meet up again, to chat, nothing. She doesn't want to think about the why. There are a hundred, thousand reasons why.

A splintering crack draws her glazed eyes out of the past, focusing instead on the broken pencil in her grip. With too much effort, Maleficent uncurls her fingers and the pencil, snapped into a capital L, falls flat against the blank paper.

"Uh, you alright?"

She doesn't have to look up to know it's Diaval, being nosy as usual and standing in the doorway of her office. Not looking at him, she slides her chair in the opposite direction and opens a drawer at random, searching for a new utensil. "How's the raven?" She asks, easing the drawer closed once she's found her prize. Only then does she look at him, and one of his multiply studded eyebrows is curving like a question mark on his forehead. Maleficent mirrors the gesture.

"Fine," he says, eying her pointedly. "Are you sure you're -"

"Diaval." Keeping her face carefully neutral, Maleficent juts out her chin. "Close the door, would you?"

His grin is about as smart-assed as it can get. "Fine." He steps into the room and pulls the door closed behind him.

Maleficent sighs. "That is not what I meant, and you know it."

"I also know that you haven't talked to me all day," he says, leaning against the door. "Not that you're a very talkative person normally, but even this is unusual for you."

"This, meaning?"

He points to the broken pencil. "That, for starters."

She frowns, opens her mouth, and then closes it again. She taps the tip of the new pencil against the desk, peppering the surface with graphite. It wasn't like she had not spoken of her dating history with Diaval before. In fact, he was probably the only person privy to her more personal activities, and he certainly was not shy about sharing his experiences, either. But this - whatever it was with Aurora - was not like her past relationships, if that word could even be applied to the types of dynamics she generally maintained with whom she was involved. She did not go on typical dates, she did not take pictures with waifs on the seaside, she did not walk her dog with them, she did not kiss them in public in the rain.

Her life is not a Disney movie, god damnit.

"Well?" Diaval pressed.

Maleficent deflates like a balloon into her chair, defeated, craning an arm over her eyes. "It's foolish. It's that girl-"

A knock at the door cuts her off and makes Diaval jump. He glares at Maleficent like she had somehow magically summoned the interruption before turning to crack the door open. Maleficent turns away, grateful for the opportunity to pretend like she's actually working on something and to get Diaval out of her face, but the relief is short-lived. Diaval opens the door further and steps to the side. When Maleficent looks up for an explanation, her jaw goes slack.

Aurora, in a red dress and silver heels like she just walked out of a Taylor Swift music video, offers something akin to a smile from the threshold of the office. Yellow hair is gathered at the nape of her neck in a loose ponytail. The fingers she had been twisting in front of her come free to give a weak wave.

Maleficent's heart stutters in her chest like an engine trying to turn over.

"Your appointment isn't for another few weeks," Diaval says, but Aurora is not listening. She isn't even looking at him. She is watching Maleficent with nervous eyes.

Maleficent can't think of anything to say, just stares back at her. The girl doesn't look angry, which is what she would have expected had she known Aurora was going to show up like this. She just looks … hurt. Confused. Maleficent's hands clench into fists.

"It's alright, Diaval. I asked her to come look at some edits I made to her design." Her reassuring smile is more of a grimace. Diaval looks at her quizzically, about to question her, but he is silenced by the flick of Maleficent's eyebrow, a somehow dangerous gesture. The man's face clears with realization, and Maleficent knows that she will be hearing about this much later, when they closed the store for the night. Nodding, Diaval motions for Aurora to come in and then slips out of the room, though not without shooting Maleficent a pointed glance as the door falls closed.

Maleficent starts to stand. Aurora's hand flashes palm up, a sign to stop. The older woman pauses, brows struggling to meet over her nose.

Aurora straightens her back with purpose and clears her throat. Her mouth opens and closes as she visibly struggles to prepare herself for what she is about to say. Maleficent feels like she should run.

"Look," Aurora begins, a muscle in her cheek flickering. Her expression, though a bit strained at the edges, is firm. "I know I'm young," Aurora continues, the speech flowing through her like she had rehearsed it many times. Maleficent wonders if she had sat in her car outside, reciting. "I know you probably think I'm immature. I know I'm a client. But we crossed a line the other day and you seemed fine with it. I certainly was." A blush like a sunrise crawls across her cheeks. She does not allow it to disrupt her. "I'm happy with casual, but I won't play hot and cold with you. I like you. I want -" Aurora hesitates, apparently losing her place. She is looking hard at Maleficent's eyes, trying her damndest to appear solid, but becoming lost in the golden lenses that are intently watching her. "I just want to have fun with you," she finishes, leaning her back against the door and staring down at the pointed silver tips of her shoes.

Maleficent's mouth is a desert but her chest swells with words. She stands and this time Aurora does not stop her, though she does raise her pretty blue eyes to follow the length of the other woman, to the very tip of the horns on her head. The office is not large - it takes three clicks of Maleficent's boots against the floor to stand directly in front of Aurora. The space between them is just a deep breath.

There is not a shred of Stefan in Aurora's face. It's easy to pretend that this is not his daughter, that the young woman before her holds no ties to a life and a man Maleficent had spent the past two decades erasing from her memory. Maybe she can pretend. Even if it is not forever, even if it is inadvisable, unconventional, taboo - isn't that what Maleficent embodies, anyway?

_I like you_. The words ring in Maleficent's ears. Stefan had taken so much from her back then. She'd be damned if she let it continue now.

Besides, it's not like this is or ever will be love. Maleficent believes in no such thing.

"You know very little about me, Aurora." It is Maleficent's turn to raise a hand in a silent command when Aurora's lips part to protest. "I can count on one hand the amount of times we have been together, even less that we have been alone." She watches Aurora's lips press together in a straight line. Her eyes jump between Maleficent's. She thinks the girl might be holding her breath. "As far as you know, I don't care about you at all."

Air hisses through Aurora's teeth. Maleficent can tell she's trying to form a sentence but her brain isn't cooperating, can almost see the misfiring in her eyes.

"I am nineteen years older than you. You are a college student. I own a business. You are a  _client_  of my business. Look at you," Maleficent's golden eyes flick downward and back up again quickly, and watch as the pearls of Aurora's teeth press on her lower lip. "And look at me. We are as opposite as they come, not just in appearance _._  We come from two very different worlds. But you know what  _I_  want, Aurora?" She tilts forward and down, low enough so that they are eye to eye. Neither of them dare to blink. Maleficent looks at Aurora's mouth, which has fallen open with her chopped breathing. Her lips are red rose petals begging to be plucked, kissed, and Maleficent runs her tongue between her own lips to keep herself from devouring the girl right that instant. As she drifts closer, she instead turns her attention to the curve of Aurora's ear. "I want  _you_."

When Maleficent places the palm of her hand at Aurora's waist she can feel an earthquake trembling in her bones. If she wasn't standing right in front of her, she wouldn't be surprised if Aurora just fell to the floor. If she's being honest, Maleficent feels a bit weak in the knees, herself.

Maleficent's hand trails up the slope of Aurora's side and she grins against the blonde's ear when she feels her body arch toward the path of her palm, like a flower following sunlight.

_Silly girl_ , Maleficent thinks, because she had been forged of shadows.

"I want you," Maleficent repeats, heartbeat drumming loudly in her ears. She pulls back to look at Aurora's face, now flushed a delightful shade of pink. "In the most carnal of ways. I want you naked and trembling and gasping, laid out like a feast on my bed." Maleficent holds Aurora's eyes, watching them glaze over as her head falls back against the door, as if she had lost the strength to even hold it upright. The hand roaming over Aurora's side slides just under her breast, taloned fingernails pricking at the fabric of her dress. Maleficent can feel the girl's breath stuttering under her touch, her ribcage struggling to expand. The horned woman's mouth curls into a smug grin. They're barely touching and Aurora is little more than putty in her hands. "I dislike people as a general rule," Maleficent continues, keeping her voice even and calm. Her free hand cups Aurora by the chin and gently pulls her forward until their noses nearly touch. "You, however …" Her grin splits to reveal two rows of white teeth. "Amuse me."

Aurora's lips twitch at the corners. She tries to laugh, but she still hasn't quite caught her breath. "Does that mean you like me, then?"

Maleficent's thumb runs along Aurora's jawline. "I don't dislike you. Let's leave it at that."

Something flickers through Aurora's features - disappointment, Maleficent deciphers - but it is gone before it has a chance to cement in her face. Aurora swallows thickly and tries to nod in Maleficent's grasp.

"I apologize for my hot and cold behavior. While I am certainly not new to this game, you make things … different."

One of Aurora's brows perks. "Not the usual player?"

Maleficent nods and finally steps back. The pair take a deep breath in unison, as if being too close had sucked all the air out of the room. Maleficent leans against the edge of her desk, arms crossed, and studies Aurora as the girl slowly comes back to herself. She smooths her hands down the length of her red dress, fingers briefly gathering at the hem of it, and Maleficent's mind is so far gone that she thinks for half a second the blonde might just pull it off, but just as she's licking her lips Aurora releases the dress and takes another deep breath. Maleficent has to give a short shake of her head to compose herself.

They are both on the edge of saying something, something important, when a knock at the door startles Aurora so much she jumps away from it. Maleficent chuckles, still breathless even as she rests an assuring hand on Aurora's arm in passing as she opens the door. The blush on the girl's cheeks rises all the way to her hairline.

Diaval is standing on the other side of the door with a taunting, too wide smile. "Your appointment is here," he says, the large ring hanging from his nose clicking against two front teeth. Maleficent wants to yank it right off of his smug little face, the brat.

"Ah, yes, I'll - I will be right out -"

"I'm sorry," Aurora ducks under Maleficent's arm and slips between Diaval and the door. Maleficent's hand flexes in an attempt to keep it from reaching out for her. "You're busy, just - just call me later, okay?" Aurora smiles with her teeth and takes a step backward, nearly careening into a station of ink, then profusely apologizes. She darts out of the shop surprisingly quickly in those heels of hers.

Every eye in the place is trained heavily on Maleficent. Ducking her horned head, she steps aside and motions for Diaval to come in and shuts the door a little more forceful than necessary. She whirls on the man, who appears quite stunted in height in comparison, but doesn't look half as terrified as she'd like him to be.

"You keep your mouth shut," Maleficent says, teeth clenched.

Diaval smiles innocently. "About what?"

She narrows her eyes dangerously. "Do not play stupid with me."

He shrugs and leans his hip against the edge of her desk. "I think it's cute."

Rolling her eyes, she shoves him out of the way to gather the sketches for her appointment. "It's just fun," she mumbles, not looking him in the eye, pretending to look for something in the stacks of paper that isn't there.

"Mal," he says, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She stops but continues staring at the desk, fingers clenched too tightly around the papers in her hands. "I'm happy for you. You deserve to have fun. Just …" Diaval's hand slips away and slaps against the side of his leg. "Be careful. Don't forget who she is."

Maleficent's eyes close as the door does, leaving her alone once again in her office. Diaval is right. She can't forget who Aurora is, where she comes from, not forever.

She thinks of Aurora blushing in her red dress, trembling against the door, the way the words 'I like you' looked on her mouth.

But, perhaps, she can forget for just a little while longer.


End file.
